December
you can't even tell me with your eyes what you felt
because i thought was it was love but those were just your lies,
and you probably fly around at night, like a vulture remembering my heart, and my thoughts at midnight,
and how i tried to put your pieces together, just so you could assemble mine.
and i stumbled with your careless words that you whispered,
so you could have me wrapped around your finger.
i was crying when you stabbed me in the back,
and my friends weren't my friends,
and the tears fell in front of my mum when i begged to forget you
and all the costumes you'd put on so i could fall for you.
and i am sure he doesn't even remember what he was doing on my birthday,
while i was ashamed of losing everything i had,
and how my tears couldn't help to escape my eyes every single night that week,
where i prayed and wished he could come back and listen to me.
while my body became a piece of meat i couldn't even see,
and your smile became bigger when you were with your friends,
the ones i'm sure think i am a witch.
but if i am a witch you were the hunter who burned me down to my bones.
how could you live after knowing this?
the way you betrayed me without showing none of empathy,
even when i went back begging you to forget me,
you looked for me in the saddest night so i could borrow your heart.
but your heart is not made for me, and i never could become so many lies entagled together,
and you always knew this wasn't nothing but that;
a chat i could always go to scream my words out.
and i dreamed about you tonight,
i'd forgive you and sit on your lap, as if you never left me by myself on that December night,
on Christmas, when i called you so many times.
i never trusted you, i knew it in my bones.
when i really needed you, i always ended up even more alone.
